


Normal

by epic_gamer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bi-Curious Reader, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Living Together, Mental Breakdown, Mute Abigail Hobbs, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert, Relationship(s), Romantic Comedy, SO, Sharing a Bed, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Unresolved Tension, gaming references, i’m yearning guys :(( i’m gay :((((, look forward to that, mentions of animal crossing, reader is basically just comic relief, reader is fucking clueless, reader is gender-neutral, reader talks in lowercase because ha ha funny moment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epic_gamer/pseuds/epic_gamer
Summary: Dictating what’s normal in life is hard. When you become used to something, that’s when it becomes a norm. For you, the norm is to play monotonous games on your switch and occasionally chill at the BAU.And you’re fine with that.Or,Reader somehow fucks up the timeline just by gaming. Will “despises” them. Everyone else thinks they’re cool.
Relationships: Abigail Hobbs & Reader, Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Alana Bloom/Reader, Bedelia Du Maurier/Reader, Bella Crawford/Jack Crawford, Beverly Katz/Jimmy Price/Brian Zeller, Beverly Katz/Reader, Beverly Katz/Reader/Jimmy Price/Brian Zeller, Brian Zeller/Reader, Dr. Frederick Chilton/Reader, Freddie Lounds/Reader, Hannibal Lecter/Reader, Jack Crawford & Reader, Jimmy Price/Brian Zeller, Jimmy Price/Reader, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter/Reader, Will Graham/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 93
Collections: Hannibal? Like Cannibal??





	1. cheap chinese food withdrawal

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know a lick of italian, so........ i’ll apologize in advance for my shitty attempt at sounding fancy :))
> 
> ( also if anyone actually knows italian,,, y’know. hit me up or whatever lolol )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo! Thanks for checking out this story! I’ve been meaning to write something related to Hannibal for quite some time now, and now that quarantines happening and I have nothing better to do, I thought, “Why not?”
> 
> Some things to consider before you begin:
> 
> \- The whole book is more so going to stay focused on the main plot of the show, though a few things may be altered to fit in with the reader’s narrative (in short, if you see something wrong with the timeline there’s a high chance that I just forgot what happened during that scene, and decided to blame it on the readers involvement lol)
> 
> \- The reader is gender-neutral! I wanted to write something that allowed anyone and everyone to be comfortable in envisioning, and also decided that writing a character whose description focuses solely on their behaviors would be interesting! Though one thing to note is that the reader has certain physical traits that also tie in with who they are. Beside that, however, it’s up to your imagination!
> 
> \- One of my beta readers (hi simon u suck ily) initially read the first chapter — and the ones following after that — and asked, who’s the reader based on? I originally wanted to keep that a secret, mainly to allow you guys to take guesses in the comments, but I soon found that the reader’s overall juxtaposition was too odd to allow me to just..... let you guys guess, lol. So if you would like to further understand why the reader acts the way they do, I suggest looking up ‘Benrey’, from hlvrai. Though if you’re too lazy to do that, just note this: Reader is a bastard.
> 
> \- Throughout this book I wanted to go in-depth with topics that most reader-inserts don’t usually focus on. For one, comedy (and I’m not talking about Will’s occasional funny quips, though I do hope to include them), specifically from the reader, the use of sign language, and other nonsensical daily struggles such as languages, sexuality, and comfort. I SPECIFICALLY made Abigail Hobbs mute because I wanted to work on writing mute characters, and allowing more dynamic whenever she enters a scene. The reader will work as an outlet in these everyday scenarios, and will hopefully soften the blow of the seasons outcomes.
> 
> \- MURDER HAREM. I saw someone use this tag once and I just foamed at the mouth dude!!!!! Murder harem!!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> \- & of course, if you have any further questions, make sure to comment them below!!! I love getting comments guys 🥺 they make me hella soft ngl

They lived a normal life.  


Something akin to _well-above-average_ and a little drastic; though the implications of a normal life were there. They grew up with their mother and father and their five something dogs, living with a modest roof over their heads and a hefty sum in their pockets. The occasional cat would linger under the families deck and the infrequent police officer would come knocking on their door, asking if they were holding up fine. The answer was always the same. Life was good. Life was normal.  


As the child grew, the word  _normal_ would stretch out into several odd directions. Their mother, a well known surgeon from a nearby clinic had died when the kid was merely fifteen. The way she had perished had never been explained to them, nor did they ever care to ask. They never liked their mother, anyhow.  


  
  
The funeral was short and they barely remember what she looked like. 

As they grew, they noticed a few things. Their father, now a foot shorter than them and resting at a old folks home in Maine, would send postcards every five to ten business days — each card having the same themes of “ _sunny beach days in Florida_ ,” despite their father never having been there in the first place.  


When a special holiday arrives, he likes to switch it up by adding cartoonishly large stickers over the hand-written portions of the cards. They can’t read any of the words ( _As scratching off the sticker would still prohibit them from the ink underneath_ ) but they still appreciated the older mans efforts.

Now, the child is not a child, but a young adult. They live with one of their closest friends in her laboratory styled apartment flat, all the while living rent-free and crashing ( _occasionally_ ) at her bosses home. His wife had grown a fondness for the figure the second she shook their hand, and despite the older man’s reluctance to befriend the odd young adult, he had also learned to love them all the same.

All in all, they lived a rather normal life.

  
-

“yo, dude.” A subtle movement in the corner of their eye. “check out this oarfish i just caught. owl-man’s gonna.... gonna go crazy when i show him this shit.”

There’s a laugh, a familiar chirp cusping through their companions lips as she hastily pulls on her grey coat, eyes dawdling over the hooded figures laid out form before blinking away. They notice her stare, though refrain from commenting on it. 

“I bet he will, dude. But — I gotta get to work. Jack’ll have my ass if I come in late again,” she snickers between lines, “Especially if he learns that  _you_ were the one keeping me behind.”

Still not looking up from their switch’s bright screen ( _They had been_ _cheap, buying the lite version just to make do with a few extra bucks_ ), before sitting up.

“can i uhhhhh, _go with?_ zeller still owes me a dollar. that bitch.”

From their un-focused peripheral vision, they can see dark curls swaying from one side to the other, Beverley’s feet pattering softly against the wooden floors. She doesn’t speak until she’s by the apartment door, the familiar hallway lights cascading over their sitting form.

“Nah. No can do, bud,” she almost sounds guilty.  _Almost_. “We’ve got a new case to analyze today, and Jack literally emailed me to not bring you along — though, i’m sure he wouldn’t mind you stopping by during lunch.”

There’s a knowing look in her eyes, and they barely catch it, if not for the urgent way her orbs drill into their forehead. For a short moment she thinks they’ve tuned her out, finally preparing to do nothing but play animal crossing all day, though her inner prayers are heard when she sees them look up, the familiar noises of their jock villager plaguing the air.

“uh, alright. i’ll bring you lunch later. your departments... departments food sucks anyways, man.” 

At the small comment she laughs, another one of her guttural sounds that extracts a smile from their form. With a turn she finally starts to shut the door — having a sudden impulse to go over and kiss the gaming idiot. A simple and friendly peck on the cheek, of course. A small and quaint  _thank you._

“Heh, alright. I’ll see you later.”

“see ya, bro.”

The door clicks shut, leaving the faint pitter-patter of rain to engulf the messy living room. Their switch still chimes with the 7AM theme, the occasional bell ringing through the music to signal their villagers greeting one another, though they pay them no mind. Instead, their thoughts have already begun to wander upon what desirable snack could accompany their friends lunch — and, inevitably, they decide on stopping by a local Italian bakery a few blocks away from their shared apartment complex.

Satisfied with their brains decisions, they hum, loading up their messy island and going straight towards their museum’s doors. They exchange the monster fish for another spot filled in the aquarium, and go back to terraforming what’s left of their beaches. After a few hours of this, they finally get up, grabbing their keys and heading towards the door.

Zeller better have their dollar. 

-

” _ ricciarelli, per favore _ .”

Their Italians off, no doubt about it. Not every word has that sexy baritone that’s needed to pull off each syllable, but it’s enough for the owner—an older Italian woman that goes by the name _**Elenora**_ —to comprehend what their saying. She understands english ( _Rather well, they_ _may add_ ) but when she had heard the being mutter one Italian Opera verse over and over again the first time they had come to her shop, she decided it was high time for them to relearn. 

So, each time they’d come in she’d teach them something new. Most times it would pertain to something they wanted to buy ( _Cosa raccomanderesti? È buono questo? Posso avere_ — ) other times, she’d focus on phrases that were for the real world. Obviously the more simple expressions— _ Ciao, Come stai, Come sta tua moglie? _ —and other times phrases that are more obtuse in a conversation. 

The gamer was smart, so they picked up on it right away.

“ _ Avete bisogno di altro? _ ” She asks, short arms going to slide the glass case open with a single nudge. Her hands grab for the clamps and within a few seconds she’s placing the biscuits into a clear bag, sealing it with a long red bow. They merely shake their head as they watch her, already placing a crisp ten dollar bill on the gleaming marble counter. It only costs five, she states each time, but they still insist she keeps the change.

They hear chatter all around them.

The funny thing about this Italian cafe is the people. The people that do know Italian are snobby and tend to chat up a storm, while the people that don’t know Italian are more prone to order, grab a seat, and then stare at their phones as they listen to _Maria Caniglia_ on loop. Though of course, they’re not aware that it’s looping. They don’t know Italian.

“ _Sei sicuro? Posso darti qualcos'altro, se vuoi_. ” The words blur a little as she speaks, but once again, the figures shakes their head. Trying to refrain from speaking more then they already had ( _Listen bro, playing copious amounts of animal crossing can really derail a guy_ ) they simply take the packaged treats and head towards the door.

At least. Until they see  _ him _ .

At the far left corner of the store, a little ways away from the main seats, is a tall gentleman — _possibly somewhere in his late thirty’s to early forties_ — sipping on a small cappuccino, a few Pizzelle’s sitting atop a white ceramic plate ahead of him. Studying him further they could tell he was of higher class; dark suit only barely wrinkling as he leans on the chairs arms, one leg crossed over the other. In some lights they would have deemed him handsome, though they weren’t the type to assess someone just by their looks.

Usually they’d see this man as they’d go to leave, head swaying slightly to the music while his leather shoes tap against the clean wooden floorboards.  


But today he looks off to the side, watching the rain fall continuously from the heavens above, street lights bedazzling the shallow puddles below. It’s honestly comedic how they’ve seen this man sipping his expensive ( _most likely not from here, judging by the thermos he holds_ ) coffee at this very cafe for the last three months, only to have never gotten his name. Perhaps one day they would ask, though they highly doubted today would be that day.  


A pause.  


It takes him but a few seconds to feel their gaze, melancholy eyes looking up and glancing towards them with an almost earnest gleam. He leans away from his hands, piercing orbs leering at their own. 

Feeling slightly embarrassed for getting caught staring, they offer him a small nod, before heading straight out the door and towards their car.

His stare never fades.

-

“yo. i brought lunch, bro.”  


They impassively state, shaking the cheap Kroger’s bag they had riffled out from their car, long legs stepping over several electrical cords in the room.  


“where’s, uh. where’s zeller? i’m gonna... gonna kick his ass.”

“He already went to the cafeteria with Price. You can kick his ass when we get there.”

Bev’s head peaks out from behind one of the fresh corpses, her hands grasping tightly onto a single hair that was clamped between a set of pliers. The sight of the body itself doesn’t bother them.  


What  _does_ is the amount of chip wrappers lingering the crime scene investigator’s desks. These guys fucking  _sucked_ at cleaning up.  


When she turns, they look her way.

_Evidence_ , she mouths. Though they could honestly give less of a shit. Setting down the cheap Chinese food onto one of the empty morgue beds, she smiles.

“You shouldn’t put that there, you know. I don’t want the bodies smelling like Chow Mein.”

“`s fine, bro.” They shrug, fishing out their half-dead phone from their pockets — typing out a few words before hitting send. “i’m sure the uh, dead body smell’ll overrule the chow mein smell.”

  
**epic gamer moments:** u better have my money loser

Again, she laughs. Placing the hair into a ziploc bag, she seals it up, setting it down besides the body before walking their way.  


With a cheeky grin, she takes them by the arm. 

“Yeah, well. You don’t know that.” She rolls her eyes, obviously joking around ( _Rotting corpse >>> Chow Mein, after all_). “Let’s just go.” 

With her non-dominant hand she reaches back for the bag, now nudging the gamer out of the examining room.

“I told Jack you were coming and he wanted to introduce you to one of the new guys. He’s a little shy but he’ll come around.” She says. “Don’t be too harsh on him, alright? He’s a good guy, judging from what I’ve seen of him. Just a little.. _off_ , is all.”

The prospect of meeting new people sounds exhausting, but they nod their head anyways. The urge to go back home is tempting, but they perceiver. After all, they were never a quitter. How do you think they caught that oarfish, _huh?_ Not by standing around and doing nothing, that’s what. 

“nice. d’ya think he uh, plays? i need new friends to add on my switch.” They nonchalantly reply, eyes gazing down at her as she shakes her head, laughing for the nth time that day. 

“Don’t think so, bud. Though I’m sure it won’t hurt to ask.”

At her words, they smile. Teeth sharp.

“whatever you say, bro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> translations (thanks tim):  
> ricciarelli, per favore - ricciarelli (a type of italian biscuits), please  
> cosa raccomanderesti? - what would you recommend?  
> è buono questo? - is this good?  
> posso avere.. - can i have..  
> ciao - hello  
> come stai? - how are you?  
> come sta tua moglie? - how’s your wife?  
> avete bisogno di altro? - do you need anything else?  
> sei sicuro? posso darti qualcos'altro, se vuoi. - are you sure? i can give you something else, if you want.


	2. not so epic gamer moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets Will and proceeds to bother the fuck out of him. Will doesn’t particularly like the Reader. Jack thinks they get along just find.

Will Graham has learned, through several trivial instances between a certain trio of crime scene investigators, that leaving his phone out in an open space is not the smartest of ideas. Not if he didn’t want them knowing his number ( _Which he didn’t_ ).  


He doesn’t use his phone, not unless Alana wanted to talk about her weekly late night binge-fests or if Jack needed him pronto on a crime scene. The possibility of communicating was scary enough as it was, so he’d never thought in a million years, from the day he had received the device to now, that he’d be blasted daily by tremendously stupid messages from a chat named ‘ _Team Sassy Science_.’

At first, he ignored the group chat all together. It wasn’t his business in the first place, and he was probably added by accident anyways. So he would turn his phone off when he didn’t need it ( _Call him a boomer all you want, but he’d much rather write letters like Englishmen in the 1800’s then text constantly on his phone — or converse at all, really_ ) but he’d soon find the notion trivial.  


For instance, he would completely forget it exists and would stuff the rectangular box into his back pocket, leaving it off for days on end, only to have Jack drive all the way down to his rural home in  _god-fuck-knows-where_ Virginia. Proceeding to drag him angrily by his sweaty hands, back to the station.

There were also some times where he’d grow curious. The chat system never indicates who is active or who had seen the texts, so naturally he would scroll through the teams nonsense, absolutely _cackling_ at the sheer stupidity of some of the conversations. One of the users, who he will forever refer to as ‘gamer moments’ — _he literally refuses to call them epic_ — would catch his attention the most.  


He hadn’t met them in person ( _Though Jack did mention_ _a meetup was in order)_ , and out of the three others that inhabited the wacky chatting space, he had found their sense of humor to be the most charming, if notthe most hilarious ( _Oh, who was he kidding. He just liked watching them diss Zeller about some stupid dollar he owed them_ ).

All in all, the chatroom was an interesting morning read that accompanied his daily bland oatmeal.

And at some point  this had become _his_ norm. Bland oatmeal in the early hours of the day, his six dogs crowding around his feet while he scrolled through his acquaintances stupid ramblings. _It’s funny_ , he’d originally think. _For a group that was hired by the FBI to help track down murderers, these people never talk about anything other than what they were doing in that current moment_. No science ( _Despite the group chats name_ ). No deductions of the mangled bodies they’d find laying about their examining tables. No talk of the stresses of their daily lives. Only cursed images and texts pertaining to normal everyday activities. 

Brr, Brr, _Brrrr_ —

His phone rings with several new notifications.

** Team Sassy Science **

**epic gamer moments:** whuh?

**epic gamer moments:** why bro?

**bee man:** It seemed like the right course of action at the time

Whatever the current topic was, it was certainly different then the last night group discussion on hot pockets. The current conversation is vague, yet he highly doubted he needed to learn what it was about to understand the subplot. Reading these chats have made him sterilized to any and all odd heart-to-hearts he could hear in a lifetime, and for some strange reason, he was fine with that.

**in debt:** u literally jumped out of my car

**bee man:** THE CITRCUMSTABCES WERE DIRE OK

**bee man:** YOU HAVE HORRIBLE TASTE IN MUSIC

**epic gamer moments:** citrumstabces

**in debt:** citrumstabces

**bee man:** I could’ve DIED u buffoons

**epic gamer moments:** that sounds like a bee man problem

**katz meow:** jc guys

**katz meow:** just come 2 work already 

**bee man:** 🥺👉👈

**bee man:** Of course miss katz uwu 

**epic gamer moments:** lol

**in debt:** y would u teach him that

**epic gamer moments:** y would i not

**epic gamer moments:** makes him manlier then u you uncultured swine 

**in debt:** smh shaking my head shaking my head throwing up GAGGING

**epic gamer moments:** ew.......cringe

**epic gamer moments:** let the record show tha

**epic gamer moments:** that zeller is super ugly and mad cringe

**in debt:** >:((

**in debt:** no u

_ epic gamer moments is typing.. _

The bell continues to ding as the messages relentlessly brighten his screen — _small smile growing amongst chapped lips_ — though he turns his phone off before he could read how this latest disaster ends. Sliding the device into one of his jeans pockets, he sets his dishes into his sink, now turning to walk out the door. He’d look through the rest of the messages later. But for now, he would have to focus on making the drive, grin still ever present on his tired face.

Today might actually be a decent day.

-

He lied. As soon as he stepped onto the crime scene a wave of nausea hits him all at once, causing him to immediately sit back down in his car — the sirens outside doing nothing to calm his nerves, his eyes suddenly stinging with invisible tears. He isn’t sure why an unforeseen headache begins to reign over him, but he does now why he can’t get out of his car. Several officers drag a corpse with a medical gurney beside his door, bone fragments falling ideally in their wake. He could see the science team had already made it to the main area of the house, even with their nonsensical morning chats.

” _yo_.”

At the sudden voice beside him, Will turns, nearly getting whiplash from the speed his neck spins — just to see who the voice belonged to. He hadn’t heard them enter his car, and he certainly hadn’t seen them while he was having his mini panic attack. They’re not even looking at him when he finally lands his hectic gaze on their form — their focus primarily staying on a barely functioning game boy. One hand fiddling with the buttons while the other holds onto a juice pouch.  
  


“you look uh, stressed, bro. want some?”

A straw is then thrusted to the mans lips, nearly forcing him to drink from the artificially flavored water, if not for the fact that nothing was forcing him to suck. He could’ve just had the yellow straw touch the tip of his lips and that would’ve been it, but instead he lets the liquid fall into his mouth, eyes still wide with confusion.   
  


“you look like shit.” They state, even as their eyes stay glued to the 8-bit game in their hands. He should take offense, though he wouldn’t be surprised if they were right. He always looked like shit.

”I _feel_ like shit.” He frowns, now pushing the carton away from him. “What happened here?”

”dun’ know.” They shrug. “didn’t... didn’t pay attention.”

Of course they didn’t — whoever ‘ _they_ ’ were. He highly doubted he would get an introduction from this mysterious stranger, but a part of him could already tell who they were. Jack had talked about you enough, after all. They were basically a friend to him as well. Or at the very least, a distant cousin he never had the displeasure of meeting.  
  


“you should go in there.”

After what feels like a lifetime he nods, head moving slow. “I should.” He mumbles, though he doesn’t feel like getting up. He half attempts to reach for his pills, though a hand stops him. It was their hand. They had stashed the game boy away, probably into their pockets. _Did they even have pockets—?_

”you should.” They shrug back, matching Will’s earlier tone as they hold onto his wrist. They stay there, staring at his hooded eyes and sweaty visage for what seemed to be hours, before letting go. 

With that they exit his car, just as quietly as when they entered.   
  


  
Will soon follows after them.   
  


-

“Took you long enough, Graham.” Beverly’s voice can be heard beside one of the bodies, her timbre obviously indicating a joke. Her hands are protected by a camouflage of clear gloves, though the speckles of crimson still lingers on her skin. Will looks away.

”Yeah, well.. had a little issue back at the car.”

”Oh? What happened?”

He turns to see if the figure had been in the room. When he sees that they weren’t, he frowns.

”Nothing important.” He briefly replies, now looking at the blood splattered walls around them. He’d usually ask what the commotion was about before he’d enter, but Jack wasn’t picking up his calls. An odd feat. Probably payback for all the times Will didn’t answer his phone. “What happened here?”

”Jack didn’t tell you?” A new voice cuts in, Price’s head bobbing out from behind one of the mahogany doors. “Guy came in and nearly killed a whole family. No clear motive. At least, to us, anyways.” He shrugs.

Zeller enters through the door beside him. “Yeah. He took the mother’s arteries with him. Ripped the dad’s spleen out. The kid’s currently being taken to the nearest hospital — poor sport.” He sighs. “The killer didn’t do anything to him but his trauma levels have _gotta_ be through the roof.”

Ignoring Zeller’s last comment, Will resorts to stuffing his hands into his pockets, glancing down at the body. “Would you guys mind if I,“

Bev stands up, already knowing what he’d ask.

”Yup, no worries. We know the drill.” She jests, taking the last sample she needed before heading out through the main door. Price and Zeller linger for a short moment, before also leaving the room. Will takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“awww. where did everyone go? lame.”

His eyes shoot open. Having not heard the figure come in, Will quickly swivels to stare them down, eyes wide and startled. “How did you—”

” _woooaaahhhhhh......_ did you uh, did you do this? wha — why’d you kill her, bro? why’d you uh, why’d you do that?” Their eyes stare lazily down at the gutted out body, head tilting to the side before glancing back up at him. He feels a sudden urge to punch that sly grin off their face.

” _I_ didn't do that. This is a crime scene.” His brows furrow. “How did you even get in here?”

”through the... through the front door?”  
  


“Yeah but, you’re not allowed to be in here. Why didn’t anyone stop you?”

Their grin widens.

”heh, yeah.”

Will _really_ wanted to punch them. He could literally feel his hands forming into fists, knuckles whitening, though he knew he couldn’t. Jack would have his head, or worse, Bev would.

  
Completely tuning them out, he walks towards the corpse, closing his eyes.

”what are you doing, bro?”

”Shut up.”

”i don’t see why you have to be so mean?” They blankly question, now standing beside him. “that isn’t very cool of you, man.”

Will doesn’t say a thing. And for the majority of his time in that room, it stays that way. The being besides him simply looks back down at the corpse, listening to the heavy quiet the room offered. When Will finally comes to, his frown deepens.

”This wasn’t the guy’s first killing. Probably won’t be his last, either.”

”oh?”

Will turns on his heels and begins to walk away, now fully awake. He briefly registers that they might still be trailing after him, though he doesn’t turn to check. The sound of them sipping loudly from their juice pouch was enough recognition in itself.  
  


The case starts to go cold once Jack shows up to the scene, their day ending with a dead lead and a tired group of FBI members.

”I see you’ve met my friend, Will.” Jack smiles, placing a large hand atop the deity’s shoulder. Will doesn’t particularly want to admit that he did, but nods anyways. “Yeah.” Was his smart quip. “I met ‘em.”

”Good. Makes this next transaction a whole lot easier.” Jack begins, earning a raised brow from the profiler. “They’ll be going back with you. To your home. Just for some time, to take care of your dogs.”

  
  


_..?_

”My dogs? Jack, you know I can just ask Alana, right? They — erm. They don’t have to do that.” They _really_ don’t have to do that, is what he actually wanted to say. But Jack’s pointed look is enough for him to keep his mouth shut.   
  


“We need you here, Will. They’re only going to stay with you when you need someone to look after them. Besides, Ms. Bloom has her own things she needs to do.” Didn't _they_ have their own things they needed to do?

“Yeah well, why tonight? It’ll be a long drive. And I’ll probably be back before tomorrow ends, anyways.”

”You don’t know that, Will.”

A pause. No. He really didn’t. Sighing, Will gestures absentmindedly towards his car, already heading straight towards the drivers seat. “This really isn’t necessary, Jack.” His last ditch attempt at preventing this stranger from coming into his home, but Jack wouldn't have it.

”Good night, Will. Good night, Kid. Try not to bother him too much, alright?”

  
  
“sure thing.”

Another sigh. “Good night, Jack.”

-

The car ride was surprisingly quiet. He had expected the other to talk his ear off, or at least, comment on every dumb movement his body made. But, they were astonishingly silent throughout the whole ride. There were of course, points in time where he’d listen to them mumble about the game clutched between their gloved fingers — Though besides that, they didn’t utter a word.   
  


And for that he was thankful.

Thankful, of course, until he pulls up to his houses driveway, somewhat glad that the crime scene was only a few hours away from his home, and also a little irked at the idea of the killer being near.  
  


“shit house, bro. as expected.”

He nearly slams his head against the steering wheel.

”What happened to not talking?” He frowns.  
  


They shrug. “you have any games?”

Exasperated, Will shakes his head. It was like every conversation they didn’t want to have would go through one ear and out through the other. “No.” He’s still frowning. “I don’t have any games. You can use my laptop, though.”

There was a pause. The gaming fanatic had reached for the door’s handle and pushed outwards, about to take one step out into the snow; but his words had stopped them. Slowly, they turn their head back to look at him.

”really, bro?”

It was now his turn to shrug. 

“Yeah. Why not.”

The conversation ends there as Will begrudgingly pushes against the five-inch current of snow, leaving large prints that would probably be covered up over night. He could hear his dogs barking from where he stood, and he was tempted to just plop dead once he stepped inside. His keys are then slid out from his pockets, a wave of dogs flowing between his legs the second the door had opened. Like before, you trail behind him.   
  
  


“nice dogs. house is uh, still shit though.” Is the simple yet unwanted comment that rolls from their tongue, heavy eyes watching as the pack circles around them — sniffing and smelling any part of them they could reach. Winston is the first one to go back to Will, the others merely following after the new enigma. _Traitors_.  
  


When finally inside, the figure smiles. Not a real smile. One that was purposefully cunning and stupid and kinda nice to look at. One that made his cheeks flush at the sheer audacity of it. 

He blames the redness on the cold.

”What are you smiling about?”

”you seemed mad. ‘s funny, bro.” They shrug, kicking off their snow covered shoes. In an instant they walk away from him, heading straight towards his slightly messy kitchen. The dishes from that morning were still there, the counters still occupying a mountain of unread paperwork.   
  


  
“you got any juice, bro?” Is what they call out once he walks in, coat now off and shoes discarded beside their own. He shakes his head.   
  
  


“No. I don’t drink juice. Only scotch.”

For a moment they seemed genuinely disappointed. “lame.”   
  
  


Not knowing what to say, they stand there for a bit, staring at one another. To Will, it sort of felt like the first time they had grabbed his hand, back in his car. Their tired gaze falling onto his own, staring at him after he had slipped away into his own thoughts. He doesn’t have much, in terms of things grounding him to reality. He had his dogs, Alana — _hell_ , even his occasional visits from Jack were grounding in their own ways. But he didn’t have this. Whatever _this_ was. And much like before he feels calm, his thoughts slowly fading away.   
  
  
  


“Does Bev know you’re here?” He starts, raising one hand to rub tiredly at his eyes, like a fussy toddler who refused to rest.

The only response he gets is a simple shrug.

“you look tired.” Their tones the same, dark orbs gleaming under the few lights his home offered. The lights cascading over their features, much like the police lights had done back in his car. Though this time, no game distracted them. Their eyes were on him, and he felt grounded. In place.

”I _feel_ tired.”

He frowns, mimicking the one from several hours prior. It really felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still back in those crowded seats, waiting for the gurneys to move along so that they could leave. Hand on wrist, eyes on eyes.

  
  


“alright, let’s go to bed.”

It was 10:56 when Will fell asleep. Possibly the earliest he had ever slept, though it was mostly due to his arms and legs aching from the days endeavors. He had offered his bed to the stranger, though they only shook their head, explaining that they needed to catch up on some gaming before they could shut their eyes. He only shrugged, falling into his comforters and knocking himself out cold.

He knows they’d sit somewhere near him — _possibly besides the mattress, or on top, near his feet_ — but at this point he didn’t mind.

  
  
For once, he slept like a rock. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up:  
> Will wakes up with night terrors (again). Reader continues to bother Will (again).


	3. introspective vibe check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is given a new nickname. Reader is still an enigma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter for today, boys.....tho the next one will hopefully be longer :))

Like most mornings, Will wakes up with a thick sheen of sweat coating his arms, legs, and forehead.

His soaked covers were left loitered all around him. Pillows and blankets surrounding his shaking, agitated form — the faintest leftovers of a nightmare still being evident in the man's eyes, and yet a few quick blinks were enough to soak them away.

  
  
Slightly adjusting himself from where he’s situated — his shirt stuck to him like a gross second skin, Will frowns. He had sadly grown accustomed to the feeling, hands itching to remove the wet fabric almost manually. And through the midst of his avant-garde morning ritual, his grey orbs slowly adjust themselves to the dark walls around him; the lack of sunlight allowing him to asses that it was some point earlier in the morning — perhaps four, maybe even three.

Cupping both hands to his face, he lets out a low groan.

"damn, bro. you uh, you really suck at sleeping."

His breath hitches within his throat as he glances upwards, nearly forgetting about the presence that had loomed over him the majority of the night. They sit there, criss-cross apple-sauced, all the while gluing their gaze to the bright screen in their hands. The fact that he had disregarded the strangers existence to the point he would get spooked again was incredibly irritating. And yet, also reassuring. At least if he wanted to forget their existence he could just fall onto his bed and sleep.

"It's too early for this,' He manages to choke out, barely above a whisper. " _Way_ too early for this — this _shit_.”

"what shit, bro?"

Will ignores them. "What time is it?"

They shrug. "four-fifty three.”

“Fuck.”

Will try’s to turn over, but is faced by a mountain of comforters. He frowns, still hiding behind his grimy palms, staying in place until he reaches for one of the discarded pillows. He pulls it up to his face, replacing his hands

”you talk a lot in your sleep.”

The figure leans over from where they sit, their form masked in the living rooms darkness. Will only _barely_ managing to catch a glimpse of them scooting closer.

“kinda cringe, man.” They then state calmly, as if Will hadn’t been aware of his talkative nature during his nightly plagues.

Honestly, the audacity this one singular being had was atrocious, but he can only let out another hasty groan, the stranger now being a few inches away from his face. Once more, their device had suddenly disappeared from their hands, possibly sucked into some strange pocket void they possessed.

“Can you like, not? Please?” Will hisses, his sight growing blurry as the figure merely shrugs. They don’t make any moves to back away, and instead, they end up scooting closer. Before Will could even protest ( _to the best of his bleary abilities would allow him_ ) the stranger had wrapped a firm hand under the nape of his neck, bringing his head to lay on their lap, fingers resting in his damp curls.

The reaction was almost immediate.

” _yoooo_..... that’s nasty, bro!!! your hair is like.... like all wet and stuff, bro!!!!!!!!! _groossss_!!!!!!!!!!”

Will cringes at their raised tone, but could feel himself rolling his eyes. Letting out a slightly staggered laugh, he starts:

”Shut up, man.” A low, dry chuckle. “Just. Just let me sleep, alright? Yeah.. _yeah_. That would be great.”   
  


At this point he was too tired to argue with the paradox’s words, and frankly, a little annoyed with how they were always right. _Rude_ , naturally. But right. And with that in mind he could feel himself slipping, eyes starting to droop, tense shoulders starting to ease. Will wouldn’t admit it out loud, but their legs were oddly comfortable to rest on. 

“Sleep sounds great right about now.”

  
They offer him a slow blink. “sure, man.” A sharp grin. “whatever you want.”

As he goes unconsciousness, Will could hear the familiar sound of the beings switch coming to life, a small _ding ding ding_ ringing just above him. He hoped that the gaming contraption wouldn’t fall on his face while he slept, and blacks out slowly.

  
-

The next time he awakens the figure is gone. Their spot near his side is left empty and their switch lay bare on his makeshift nightstand, his pills being splayed atop a napkin. Without a thought he takes them dry, head slowly losing its usual fuzziness.   
  


“morning cracker... cracker man.”

Will stills, nose crinkling.

”What’s with you calling me cracker?” For some reason he feels at ease. The situation between the pair was odd, no doubt about it, but something about it brings him comfort. Perhaps he was just so incredibly _lonely_ that at some point he was okay with letting this asshole be the highlight of his morning. Which obviously just meant Will’s mornings sucked.  
  


“graham cracker, bro.” They shake their head, as if the joke was obvious. A balled up white tee is then thrown at him. “lame. can’t even get the joke. what a uh, what a loser.. loser cracker man. cringe...” Another shake.   
  


A tightness looms within the males stomach but is soon dissipated with the rest of his inner turmoils. He knows the figure was only joking ( _Or at least, he always assumes they are. It was hard to tell with their droopy eyes and shit-eating grin_ ) but it doesn’t excuse his urgent need to clock them over the head. Will had dark thoughts, _yes_. But he didn’t know why his immediate reaction to the voices words was to punch them.

He pins it to his mental image of them, then continues.

”What were you doing in my closet?” He instead asks, watching as the figure only offers another brief shrug. It was like the action was instant to them — their hands reflexively _shimmying_ into their pockets.   
  


”wanted to uh, check something. you have shitty fashion sense, bro.” Is what they counter.

  
Will isn’t even surprised. He stands up, picking up the white shirt and unrolling it, before putting it on. The sweat stained apparel from earlier that morning is left crumpled on his bed as he moves past them.  
  
  


“I hate you.”

The being grins. He only now notices how sharp their teeth are. How tired they seem.

”that’s pretty rude of you, bro.”

Will can only smile back, though not before lingering near his closets door. Nothing seemed amiss, and when he found the state of it barely touched, he moves away to the kitchen.

Unnecessary info alert: At some point a few years back, Will had converted one of the downstairs pantries into one of his own personal closets. It was small, but it did its job — holding his clothes up on hangars and not falling to the ground, which is all he ever wanted in a closet.

Beside the pantry was a mini armoire, filled to the brim with old shirts that belonged to both him, and his late father. Though the ones that previously belonged to his dad were left untouched. Dust settling beneath the cotton frames. He hears them behind him.

”i let your dogs out.”

When Will enters the kitchen he finds the dishes cleaned, each bowl placed neatly between separate racks. He turns to look back at the figure (Whether to thank them for doing the dishes or to tell them off for meandering through his home, was beyond him), only to find they were gone, again. For a moment Will stands there, just to see if they would appear. They do not.

His phone rings with new notifications.

’ _Ah_ ,’ he breathes, now turning his gaze towards the rectangle box laying atop his kitchen counter. ‘ _So it begins._ ’

**katz meow:** yo graham

 **katz meow:** i know ur reading this so don’t even bother pretending to not be here lol

 **katz meow:** the gremlin didn’t bother you too much right?? again sorry about that

 **katz meow:** jack insisted 

**epic gamer moments:** excuse u

 **epic gamer moments:** i am gr8 company

 **epic gamer moments:** ur just mad  
  


Will blinks down at the screen. At some point he had reached for the phone and read the texts, now beginning to make his oatmeal. Seems that his norm was going to start a little earlier then usual, although this time, he would be participating.

Slowly, he begins to type.

**dog lover 1000:** uh no

 **dog lover 1000:** they were fine

Staring down at the user name he deadpans. He isn’t sure who had given it to him, but he could guess it was either the stranger in his home, or Bev. Seeing as neither of them knew about his dogs before now, he assumes it’s the former.

  
 **katz meow:** oh neat :))

 **katz meow:** sorry i just wanted to check up on you 

**katz meow:** that idiot can really get under people’s skins lol

 **epic gamer moments:** this is bullying bro

 **epic gamer moments:** im gonna have 2 report u to the fbi

 **katz meow:** im literally PART of the fbi dude

 **epic gamer moments:** whuh?

 **in debt:** it’s 2 early 4 ur stupidity

 **epic gamer moments:** no u

 **in debt:** no u

 **epic gamer moments:** no u

 **in debt:** no u

 **katz meow:** please stop

Despite himself, Will let’s out a small laugh. He would go for his usual wicked cackle ( _One that he had developed throughout the various messages_ ) though the thought of the stranger hearing his laugh was embarrassing, so he refrains from going above a chuckle.   
  


He’s about to type out another reply, though a new notification stops him.

_**epic gamer moments** has changed **dog lover 1000** ’s name to **graham cracker**_

Will pauses stirring.

**katz meow:** lol thats random

 **katz meow:** cute

 **katz meow:** but random

 **in debt:** r u 2 bffs now??? 

**in debt:** such a dumb pun lol

 **bee man:** I think it’s cute!

 **epic gamer moments:** shut up zimmerman 

**in debt:** for the last time

 **in debt:** it’s zeller

 **epic gamer moments:** shut up zimmerman idiot cringe baby

The sound of the door opening and closing briefly shifts his attention away from the screen. He turns, now holding a warm bowl of oatmeal ( _Another bowl set subconsciously on the counter beside him_ ) while the dogs begin to pile in. The stranger enters, nearly being covered head-to-toe in snow. They don’t look at him.  
  


“Graham cracker, huh?” He breaks the short and awkward silence, voice teasing. They don’t really acknowledge him, though they do step forward.   
  


“I, uh.” He smiles — or rather, try’s to. It’s more stiff and slanted then his usual grins, but he puts in the effort to dispel the tense air surrounding them. “I like it. Thanks.”

They look up, finally locking their gaze to his.   
  


In response, Will coughs, blue orbs flickering away.

”Oatmeal?” He asks, and they nod.

Setting his phone down where he had last placed it, he hands them the other bowl, guiding them towards the small table beside his main door, as his eyes sway from the food to their form.

They still haven’t spoken, but he had decided long before that he preferred them quiet. At least now he could admire them without their mouth twitching into a snarky grin. A grin which he had slowly started growing used to. Fond of, even. Though he dispels that thought entirely, brows furrowing.

The pair eat in moderate silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up:  
> Will is called back to another crime scene. Hannibal Lecter accompanies him.


End file.
